Moon Craters and Stardust
by Tea and Fairy Lights
Summary: Sherlock asks if he can stay over at John's house in the middle of the night, after having a familial dispute. Trigger warning: Family violence/child abuse. Other warnings: You may have feels.


**Thank you to Yarsian and the other people who I RPed with, whose names I've unfortunately forgotten.**

* * *

_John. -SH _

_Sherlock. -JW_

It's late on a Thursday night. John is in lower sixth and Sherlock is in year 10. They have school the next day. John is accustomed to Sherlock's late night texts.

_Can I come over? -SH_

_Yes, as long as you're quiet. Mum made me clean the cellar last time you got me in trouble. -JW_

_I never would have been heard if it hadn't been for that rat next door. Those Andersons; they're all so irritating. -SH_

_Quite. -JW_

_You should have told me, I'd have helped you. Make sure your window is open. Will be there shortly. -SH_

John puts his phone down, props his window open and awaits Sherlock's arrival. He helps him up and into his room when his head pops into view. John feels an electric jolt when his hands touch Sherlock's arms as he pulls him in, but he ignores it, trying to focus on getting his friend inside. John moves his hands to Sherlock's back. Sherlock winces at the touch, but says nothing. John notices Sherlock's reaction and takes extra care, shifting his hands to Sherlock's shoulders, pulling him over his windowsill.

Sherlock stands and straightens his clothes. He toes off his shoes and sits on John's bed. John shuts his window and sits next to Sherlock.

"Alright?" John asks.

Sherlock shrugs.

"Care to explain why you asked to come over late and abruptly? ...Not that I mind."

Sherlock smirks. "Cause you wouldn't mind."

John half-grins. "Can't sleep anyway."

"Haven't slept in four days." Sherlock pulls his knees to his chest.

"Not healthy." John leans toward the wall, trying to sneak a glance at Sherlock's back.

Sherlock rotates his body away from John. "Point? Stop worrying about it."

"It's another 'point' added to my list," John says. He looks away, wishing he hadn't revealed so much. He really does have a mental bullet list of concerns regarding his best friend, and he's embarrassed to have revealed this concern to Sherlock.

Sherlock sighs and averts the attention from himself. "What's bothering you?"

John purses his lips. "Exams." John will take his A-Levels in two months, and he has to make some big decisions regarding what he'll do in life. Academia adds pressure, but he's mainly troubled about leaving Sherlock behind when he leaves for uni. He knows that Sherlock has problems at home. Sherlock barely speaks about it, but John knows it's much worse than he admits. "A lot to think about."

Sherlock nods slowly, showing his understanding, though he truly doesn't. Sherlock doesn't hassle with most of the predicaments the rest of children his age seemed to; it bores him. Yet, seeing John look so stressed causes him to feel unease. "You'll pass," he says, encouraging him. "You're smart. Perhaps not on my level, but you'll do well."

John smiles. He appreciates the comment. Sherlock is notorious for his unusual mannerisms, and John is the sole person who understands when he gives a compliment, no matter how bizarre it may slip off his tongue.

Sherlock looks down; his lips curve more at the sight of John's smile. He shifts his legs, crossing them at the shin. His brow furrows when he adjusts the position of his back. "Do you know where you want to attend university?" He asks, attempting to distract John from wanting to inspect the source of his pain.

John knows better when Sherlock tries to deflect conversation. He usually lets him get away with it, as he did with the first question this evening, but he is intuitively urged to investigate further this time. "You've winced three times now. Lift your shirt, please."

Sherlock frowns. He's tempted to put up a fight, but he is in a lot of pain and he knows John will not be too cross if he reveals this secret. Father was particularly vicious tonight. Sherlock sighs and slowly turns around, allowing John to lift the fabric from his swollen skin.

John sulks at the sight; Sherlock's back is covered in angry, red welts. "I would have requested to come over sooner, but I had to wait until I could move again."

John has no words of comfort to offer; anything he would say would sound trite. "Lay on your front," he instructs instead.

Sherlock complies. If it were anyone else, he'd deliberately say no. John walks into the loo that connects to his bedroom. He bends down and searches in the cupboard. Sherlock tries to observe, but John is obscured by the door, which he left ajar. He rests his head on his arms and waits for John to return.

John crawls on his bed carefully. He pulls Sherlock's shirt up to his neck; Sherlock pulls it all the way off. John uncaps the tube of ointment and hands Sherlock the two paracetamol he retrieved from the toilet; he suppresses the urge to lean over and kiss each swollen mass before dousing it in cream. John's feelings for Sherlock branch further than friendship. If he were to compare them to the sprouting of a tree, they would reach the highest leaves on the tallest limb. He's been aware of his longing for the boy shortly after their first meeting.

"I'm sure you have questions," Sherlock mumbles, swallowing the pills. John murmurs acknowledgement as he lightly doctors Sherlock's sores. Sherlock jerks slightly at John's first touch. "That's the confusing part. I thought I was telling him something he'd want to hear… and you know how I'm rarely confused."

"What did you say?"

"I told him the truth."

John glides the tips of his fingers of his opposing hand on the unharmed areas of Sherlock's back. Sherlock relaxes under his touches. "Which was?"

"He spoke about girls he thought I should be interested in, for the sake of the family. He doesn't like it when I lie so I was honest about my nature. He caned me."

John hesitates. Knowledge of Sherlock's sexuality is common at school, but Sherlock kept it well hidden from his family. John keeps his preference quiet from everyone; no one questions him, as he is stereotypically masculine and athletic; he is moderately well-liked at school. Perhaps Sherlock knows, but never brought up the subject. Sherlock is more effeminate, socially isolated, and often subject to ridicule. John knows that Sherlock is brilliant, quiet, and meticulously observant to detail. Perhaps he does know of John's attraction to blokes, too. John admires Sherlock's valour this eve, but he fears that he would meet similar consequences if he confessed to his family. "That's not fair," he says quietly.

"I'm unable, no- _unwilling_, to carry on the _proud_ Holmes name, in his mind it makes perfect sense."

"I'm... I'm sorry." The words hang in the air. John feels stupid, nothing could make up for the damage done and he is unsure what else to say. He finishes coating Sherlock's wounds and caps the ointment.

"It's not your fault." John is Sherlock's ideal boyfriend, no matter how shrouded his desires are. To Sherlock's relief, this notion did not break the surface during his argument with his father. Even if it had become part of the discussion, it would not be John's blunder.

"I know, but it doesn't stop me from feeling poorly."

Sherlock sits up slowly and faces John. "You never answered my question about uni," he changes the subject.

"Somewhere close," he confesses.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "I assumed you wanted to get away from your family." John mentioned on several occasions how he wanted to be nowhere near his sister's scornful mouth.

John rubs his lips together. "Yes, well..." he falters, "I've had a change of..." he pauses. He can feel his ears go pink. "Heart."

Sherlock studies John's change in demeanor carefully. How… odd. Sherlock recognizes the tone of voice, similar to Donovan's, one the love-struck girls behind him in maths always uses. "And what brought on this sudden...change?"

"I..." John is determined Sherlock knows. He doesn't see the point in completing his sentence.

"John?" Sherlock's voice is softer now, his bright eyes struggling to make sense out of the situation. He knew where this was going, but why could he not speak up? Was it that Donovan girl? He can't help but bite back a wave of jealously at the thought.

"I'd just rather not go far," he lies through his teeth. Sherlock frowns. John avoids Sherlock's staring. He stands up and walks to the bathroom once more to brush his teeth.

Sherlock follows him and stands in the doorway. John glances into the mirror and looks Sherlock through the reflection after he rinses his mouth. "You can have my bed." Sherlock opens his mouth to dispute, but John puts up a hand. "No protesting. You need it."

Sherlock closes his mouth and walks up to the sink to rinse his mouth. John turns back to his room to change clothes and to make a pallet on the floor. As Sherlock turns on the faucet, he notices a toothbrush, still in its wrapper, on the counter. He shifts his head to glance at John, who throws a pile of blankets near his bed. Sherlock smiles when John's not looking.

* * *

John is staring at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his ceiling when Sherlock speaks.

"John?"

"Mm?"

"I want to run away."

"Not with your back in that state, you're not."

"I don't mean right this minute, I mean within the next month." There is a strained silence. "…Will you come with me?"

"Sherlock, I'm nearly done with school."

"So?"

"So? I'd actually like to finish after I've gone on with it for so long."

"Hmph." Sherlock shifts onto his side, slowly.

John shakes his head and exhales through his nose audibly. As much as he cares for Sherlock, John has his priorities and can't allow Sherlock to completely rule his life.

More silence passes. John watches the stickers dim. Neither boy sleeps.

Sherlock mumbles, his face toward the wall, "Will you at least tell me the real reason of why you'd rather not go to uni far away?"

John shuts his eyes. "I thought you'd figured it out by now."

Sherlock shifts his head in John's direction. "Figured out what?" Sherlock can usually read John very quickly. Due to his physical pain, his mind is partially numbed. He is perplexed by John's odd behaviour.

"…Do you find Donovan attractive? I mean... I know she's not your _type_, but… you know…" John fumbles his words.

"No, despite my preferences, I find her rather repulsive."

John chuckles quietly. "I can feel her staring at me in maths. Her eyes practically burn a hole in the back of my head. A lot of other blokes fancy her… I don't really know why, though… her friends always persuade me to date her. Others do, too."

Sherlock frowns. "So, why don't you?"

John pauses and takes in a deep breath, quietly.

"John?"

"I… don't fancy girls, Sherlock. I'm fine with them as mates, but I don't like them… you know."

Sherlock grins widely in the darkness, his back still turned to John.

"I won't always be here to take care of you," John continues. He feels lightheaded with his revelation.

"John."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock… if this is weird, now…" he feels his face flushing. He's terrified that he may have ruined their friendship.

"John. I want you to come up here."

John continues to ramble his apology, so distracted by his own train of thought that his misses Sherlock's request.

"John! Shut. Up."

John whimpers softly as he presses his lips together.

"I asked that you come up here."

"Wh—what?"

"I want you to join me. _Please_." Sherlock knows that John is more likely to respond positively if he attempts to be polite.

"Why?" He sits up slowly.

"I don't want you to leave…" Sherlock continues. "You know… for uni."

"Okay…?"

"Just come up here."

"Okay." John shuffles out of the covers and stands up. He walks over to the bed and sits on the edge. Sherlock rolls onto his other side carefully, and pulls back the sheets for John to slip next to him. John hesitates, but obliges. Sherlock places a hand at John's waist.

"I'm… quite… fond of you, too," Sherlock confesses.

John meets Sherlock's gaze, wide eyed. "Y—You are?" He feels his whole body lighten. He puts a hand on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock presses his forehead to John's. "Extremely," he whispers, closing the distance between their lips.

John kisses back as he gently pulls Sherlock closer to him. He places his hands on his upper back, cautiously avoiding his welts. He plans to kiss every single lashing on Sherlock's back before he applies more ointment to them in the morning. He smiles against Sherlock's mouth, happy that he won't have to instill such self-control, plus he has the boy he adores in his arms.

"When you're done with school, we can go to London… as a couple… if you like," John says when their lips finally part. Sherlock beams. "I'll hopefully be in medical school, and we can share a flat…" Sherlock interrupts him with another kiss. "We may not be able to run away now, but we can at least dream together. We can share what our ideal place is like, and keep a journal about it… and then make it a reality when the time comes. I want to take care of you, always."

"And I want to run away with you, no matter where you go."


End file.
